


Kicking and Screaming

by ladygriffyndor



Series: Stinks of Rebellion [2]
Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, everlark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-15 10:03:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7218076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladygriffyndor/pseuds/ladygriffyndor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katniss has won the Hunger Games, but she knows the real Game is far from over. Her little act of defiance may be much worse than she thought. After saving Peeta's brother in the Arena, she has to figure out a ay to keep the rest of her family safe from the Capitol as the rebellion brews. <br/>Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/3975604/chapters/8920789">Head First</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Dandelions

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's been long but I hope you guys enjoy this sequel. Thank you for reading! Don't forget to let me know what you think.

I am still not used to closing my eyes and just allowing my mom to braid my hair. It is still hard for me to focus on the soothing movements of her hands instead of the memories of the Arena that flash across my eyelids every time I close my eyes. But I’m working on it. 

I’m working on a lot of things, actually. 

I am working on figuring out a way to wake up Haymitch that doesn’t include having to search him for knives and throw a bucket of cold water on top of him. I am working on not being heartbroken every time Gale refuses to talk, or even look at me. I am working on making my fake smiles more convincing. I am working on trying not to think of the Capitol and President Snow too much. I am working on figuring out how the phone works, even if I can only call Cinna with it.

And until a couple of weeks ago, I was also working on my new home. Until Peeta kicked me out of the project, that is. 

Our Toasting was perfect because it was just _ours,_ but eventually the sun came out and we had to carry on with our lives. We had to go to separate houses when the sun came down and we eventually had to tell our parents that we had, in a way, eloped. They weren’t thrilled, but they weren’t surprised either.

After avoiding the subject for some weeks, Peeta and I finally talked about the Games. I told him about how I really thought I would never see him again, about how scared I had been, about what it felt like to shoot somebody. He told me about what it was like to watch me on television. I told him about the berries, and how I still woke up some times covered in sweat, regretting the lies I had said to come back home. We talked about the future too. We know that the Games aren’t quite over, and that soon the Victory Tour will come around and I’ll have to leave with Danny for a couple of weeks. 

Parting from his side was something I was definitely not looking forward to. Peeta and I don't spend every night together, but in those we do the nightmares are kept at bay. The simple thought of spending weeks without his comfort, being eaten by guilt and attacked by memories while I sleep, tortures me.

So Haymitch offered us an alternative. 

“Get married,” he had said with a shrug. His voice was as flat as if he had just suggested for us to eat a donut or take a breath. _Stay alive_ , he had said once. And I was still trying to follow that advice. “Get married before the Tour, the Capitol will be wrapped around your finger and they won’t object to Peeta tagging along for the Tour. They love him anyway, and truth be told we could use the corny publicity sweetheart.”

We grimaced, but after sharing one look we knew he was right. And we knew we were doing it too. 

After that we had sat at my backyard, discussing a few details: the date, who to invite, and where we would live after we were formerly married. His home is actually Danny’s, and I never once considered to kick Prim and my mother out so that we could have the house to ourselves. I don't even like the house at the Victor's Village, it's too white, and pure and it reminds me of everything I had to do to get it. What I _really_ wanted was to move back to the Seam, to my home, but I knew the Capitol would never have it. So we settled on building a small cottage on my backyard. Enough to give us privacy.

The weeks went by quickly after that, Caesar Flickerman came all the way to Twelve to interview us. We revealed the wedding date and acted all mushy for the cameras, it was the first time we addressed the Capitol together. I hated it. But at the same time it was much easier to lie with Peeta’s hand wrapped around mine. Gale stopped showing up at our spot on Sundays, but after seeing Rory and Posy running around well fed I figured he had changed his hunting schedule in order to avoid me. I could never get him to explain me why. It didn’t matter though, I knew.

Effie and Cinna took care of the wedding plans, and I was free to focus on building the cottage with Peeta. Two weeks before the wedding though, he announced he was going to finish the project on his own, as his wedding present for me. 

More than a present, to me it proved to be torture. I was forced to listen to my mother talking color palettes with Effie for hours, Prim went over the details of the ceremony at least ten times a day and I simply _sat_ there, watching then take over my wedding. After a while I decided Haymitch was better company. 

He drank, I read, we stayed quiet. It worked perfectly for both. 

Three days before the wedding I asked him to give me away, he took a sip of his moonshine as a way of saying yes. We didn't talk about the wedding ever again.

My mom accidentally yanks a strand of my hair and I am brought back to the present abruptly. 

“Sorry,” she murmurs, her lips are tightly pressed together as she holds bobby pins in between them. I can feel some bobby pins pressing onto my scalp, and I try to get used to them, my mom used to braid my hair with her fingers and that was it. Even bobby pins were a luxury we couldn't afford. 

“Don’t worry,” I reply my eyes falling on my reflection for the first time. My make up is already done, the soft tones on my face make me look beautiful, glowing and weak, it’s all part of the Game we have going on with the Capitol. Nothing new. What really catches my eyes are the braids my mom finishes as I watch. 

Cinna had happily agreed to allow my mother to do my hair –– as long as she promised to teach him how––, after all she had done it the day it all started, the day of the Reaping. 

Much like with almost everything else regarding the wedding, I didn’t make any requests about my hair, I simply sat down and allowed my mom to style it as she wished. She outdid herself. 

My long hair is in two intricate braids, each one falling on one side of my face. Danny’s voice echoes in my head, retelling the story of the day Peeta allegedly fell in love with me; the plaid dress, the two braids. 

To make them even more perfect, my mother had braided dandelions on both of them. 

Before I know what is going on, my eyes tear up. I’m not usually one to get emotional over this kind of stuff, but I guess I am allowed to on my wedding day. 

“It’s perfect mom,” I compliment and she tears up too. Both of us look away from the mirror, trying to blink away the tears to prevent our makeup from being ruined. 

*******

The dress is perfect, and even more than that. But I didn’t expect less from Cinna. 

Delicate and elegant, the dress seems to be made of dandelion seeds. As I twirl I half expect it to blow away with the wind, but it doesn't. It doesn't have a veil –– as I had strongly refused to wear one, making it one of the few decisions I took about the wedding –– but the tail is huge. It spreads to cover almost a quarter of the room we are in, embroidered yellow dandelion flowers strategically scattered on the tail make my breath get caught in my throat, the tears threaten to fill my eyes again, but Cinna makes faces on the mirror and I just _have_ to laugh. 

“Peeta sends this,” he says moments later, when there is no more waterworks threats. From behind some spare fabric he materialises a bouquet of wildflowers, the fresh dandelions tied with a white ribbon. 

My eyes are focused on the perfect balance of colours in the bouquet, I turn it around to admire it from every single direction, and then my thoughts are interrupted by an awkward throat clearing in the door. 

Haymitch –– looking obviously uncomfortable on his tuxedo, but also kind of _happy ––_ motions with his head towards the door. “It’s time, sweetheart. You don’t want to keep them waiting, do you?”

** *** **

We went through the complicated protocol a million times. We agreed to have a Capitol wedding in order to please the audience, but one of my other requests was to have everything supplied by District 12 vendors. If I was going to spend a fortune on this wedding, at least I wanted the money to stay in my District. 

The Meadow is gorgeous, and I seriously doubt all of the wildflowers adorning it were grown naturally, but I don’t overthink it. I focus on the harmonious sounds of the string quartet that gets together on Sundays to play at the Town Square. I focus on Danny and Prim, who are walking together down the aisle. Danny carries the rings proudly and Prim tosses flower petals and smiles to the guests. 

I try not to think of the almost two thousand people reunited. I was skeptical about them all fitting in the Meadow, but Effie made it work. Everyone in the district was invited, but the majority gracefully rejected the offer. I know that if it hadn’t been my wedding I would have refused to go too. Why spend my day pretending to get along with the Capitol? I still made sure that everyone in the District would get cake. 

I try not to think of the empty chair on the second row, Hazelle Hawthorne smiles sadly at me as I walk down the aisle. My eyes focus on hers for a moment, but even when I can see the resemblance they don’t feel like Gale’s. 

Haymitch squeezes my arm and I look up to him, he is smiling so I smile back. 

“This is my stop, sweetheart,” he whispers, his feet stop moving and I look down at the aisle, at the few steps I have to take on my own. “Don’t trip,” he reminds me and I roll my eyes. 

That’s the moment I choose to finally look up and search for Peeta with my eyes. He is wearing a tailored black suit, something he had never worn until now. It fits him perfectly, bringing out the blue in his eyes, which are now glistening with tears of happiness. His lips are curved in a loving smile and I want to run towards him. But I know Effie will probably jump at my throat if I do. 

So I walk towards him, only slightly faster than I should have, and we join our hands as the minister starts speaking. 

The ceremony happens in a blur. Before I know it we are exchanging rings and the minister is asking me to speak my votes. I turn around and Prim hands me a wrinkled paper in which I scribbled them, I clear my throat and focus my eyes on Peeta’s. I try not to think about the cameras, about the fact that the whole country is most likely sitting down and watching this on their televisions. 

I pretend for a second that we are back at the bakery, just the two of us, with the smell of bread toasting surrounding us. 

“I am not as good with words as you are, but I can be honest. I can always be honest with you. And that’s why I vow to always be loyal to you, Peeta Mellark. I vow to apologise every morning after I steal the covers, even though you know it’s not my fault.” He snorts and I smile, sneaking a look at my notes before continuing. “I vow to always be with you, in sickness and health. I vow to always laugh at your jokes, even when you’ve told them before. I vow to always be your best friend, your lover, because there is no one else I’d want to be with for as long as I live. And finally,” I clear my throat, one tear streaming down my cheek as I ready myself to finish. His usually steady hand trembles as he wipes it away. “I vow to always love you, even when you make me angry, even when we are apart, even when it is hard. Getting rid of me won’t be easy, Peeta, I promise that too.”

He smiles and I blindly return the paper to Prim, not tearing my eyes off him. The minister invites him to say his vows and he stays silent for a second, as if searching for his words. I can count with one hand the times he’s been speechless. But before I can sing victory, he speaks. He doesn’t even have a paper with notes, the smug bastard. 

“I vow to always take care of you, Katniss Everdeen, even when you insist you don’t need me to, even when I _know_ you don’t need me to. I vow to bring you breakfast in bed, and bake you cheesebuns. I vow to give you space when you need it, and to erase it when you need me. I vow to agree to disagree on red velvet cake,” it was my turn to chuckle and more tears fall down my cheeks. His hand is now steady against my skin. “I vow to always catch your tears, and to do my damn best not to cause them. I vow to be honest, wholesome and brave. But mostly, I vow to always love you too, no matter what.”

** *** **

Cinna’s dress proves to be magnificent all over again. Somehow he tucks in the voluptuous tail, allowing me to move through the wedding guests easily, running away from unwanted conversations and pulling Peeta with me. By the time the food comes I can’t remember a single name of the people I have spoken with. I know that President Snow is here, and so are some of my fellow Victors, but I have avoided them so far. 

After the feast ends, my final two requests are honored. First, the cake. I insisted on Danny and Peeta decorating the cake together. It felt important and kind of obvious too. I had always known that Peeta wanted to get married, that he wanted to have kids. But he knew too that I didn’t want any of that. Maybe marriage I wouldn’t have opposed to, but kids were (and still are) a big no in my books. If Danny hadn’t been reaped, if I hadn’t volunteered to go into that Arena with him, I wonder how differently things would have gone between us. 

I shake those thoughts from my head, it does no good to dwell on ‘what if’s. So instead I focus on the huge cake in front of me, the sugary dandelions adorning it beautifully. Peeta hands me a knife and we cut the cake together, feeding each other small bites of it as the crowd cheers. 

Peeta walks me to the dancing floor, my last request taking place. Because even when, thanks to Effie, I have become sort of a reluctant expert in waltzing, I didn’t want to dance to Capitol music on my wedding. I have given up so much already, I simply wanted to dance to the same music I had grown up with. Dance the steps Prim and I had rehearsed over and over on our small living room, bumping our toes against the furniture and laughing until our stomachs hurt. 

And so Peeta and I dance, the live band playing the familiar music and soon the rest of the guests from District 12 join us on the dance floor. The laughter and feet tapping on the wooden floor they set in the middle of the Meadow for the occasion echo in my head. When I close my eyes I see nothing but the red spots of the twinkling lights that hang around the party. 

Everything feels right. For a fleeting moment I can almost pretend that everything _is_ right. 

But it’s not. 


	2. The Invitees

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, I am very sorry about taking so long to update! I hope you like this chapter <3

“Mind if I cut in?” I look away from Peeta and my eyes land on Finnick Odair. I knew he was here, of course I did, I had greeted him when he arrived hand in hand with his wife Annie Cresta the day before. But that doesn’t mean I am used to have a celebrity near me, much less in my wedding. Even if something tells me I should get used to it, deep inside me I know that I am now a "celebrity" too.

“I’d love to have a dance with the blushing bride,” he continues, his smile only growing.

Peeta’s eyes return to me, asking me silently if I agree to it and I nod.

“We should get to know each other, I guess,” I say with a smile on my own, accepting the hand that Finnick offers to me.

“Marvelous,” he says, and somehow he makes me believe he means it. Maybe he does. “Annie loves dancing, Peeta. And I know for a fact that she would like to talk art with you.”

My husband nods, smiling at both of us and scanning the crowd to find Finnick’s wife. The cameras flash around us as Finnick’s hand lands on my waist and we start dancing.

“Are you enjoying the party?” I ask after a moment, the smile on my face still.

“I am, the food is delicious. And the cake…” he hums. “Is it true your husband baked it?”

“Yes, with Danny.”

“Damn, I might have just lost a bet to Annie. Either way, Danny is amazing. I love that kid!”

“I see you’ve met him.”

“I have, yes.”

“Do you ever get tired from faking a smile, Finnick?”

To my surprise he laughs, I decide that I like his laughter better than his smile. It seems more honest. “I do,” he confesses. “When I do I try to find a reason to laugh, it relaxes my muscles. I have to say, your fake smile has bettered a lot since I first saw you. When you were first on camera we were all scared you were going to bite somebody’s head off. Jo and I had a bet.”

“Jo?”

“Johanna Mason, District 7. Very bitchy, killed everyone with an ax. My best friend.”

“Is that how you introduce all of your friends?” I ask amused, the name would have been enough for me. Of course everyone knew who Johanna was, in fact she is also a guest to my wedding, but I had not crossed words with her.

“Yes,” he replies with a smile, and this time I know he is being sincere.

“So how would you introduce me?”

“Are you implying we are friends already?”

“We better,” I say, my smile faltering for a second as I swallow. “I mean, we are going to be seeing each other a lot. Best case scenario we get along.”

“Good thinking, Girl on Fire.” I wince at the compliment and he squeezes my hand, letting me know it won’t happen again. “Being friends with Finnick Odair is the smartest thinking you can do.” I decide that I like him, he is cocky and self absorbed, but I can almost forgive him for it. He won his games when he was fourteen, for the most part of his conscious life he has been surrounded by the Capitol luxuries. And underneath all of it, he seems like a genuinely good person. For now.

“Also, this wedding… perfect timing. You are much smarter than I thought, you certainly have a way to work the public.”

“I will take that as a compliment,” I say as he twirls me. I use the movement to make sure no one is close enough to listen to us. “What do you mean perfect timing?”

He looks at me for a second, his smile is still on his face but his eyes are cautious. It is obvious he is weighting his words

“People were already putting a price on you, which is disgusting… considering you went inside the Arena already engaged. Then again, the Capitol is disgusting, I was only sixteen.”

I tense in his arms, I know that they are all too far away to hear me, but the sole thought of talking badly about the Capitol on my wedding, the first party outside of his mansion that President Snow has attended in years, makes my stomach turn. I have fought hard to keep my family safe to throw it away with a careless comment.

“Thankfully, they stop once you are married, so there's that,” he continues. “They won’t stop pestering though, if that is what you wanted to hear. I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”

“I knew that,” I say simply, my face still sporting the best fake smile I can muster. “But I still wish you had better news for me.”

“Look at that fake smile, Effie did teach you well.” My smile becomes a little more honest after his compliment. “I think we will be great friends Katniss.”

“You are awfully full of yourself, aren’t you?”

“Yes. But I don’t see a single reason not to be,” he teases, pulling away when the song ends and clapping at the live band.

“For the record: Katniss Everdeen, District 12. The Girl on Fire, terrible dancer, great at faking smiles.” He winks and me and walks away.

A few seconds later Peeta joins my side again and we walk to our table.

“How is Annie?” I ask him, my hand drawing circles on the back of his hand.

“She is charming,” he compliments sweetly and I smile. “Slightly confused, but she seemed genuinely happy to be here.”

My mind travels to the memory of Annie’s Games, and the way she seemed to lose herself more and more as the days passed. I wonder if Finnick had been a part of her life before that, I wondered how Peeta would have reacted if that had been me. It could have easily been me if Danny had died. My hand tightens around his as I try to shake those thoughts from my mind.

“I like Finnick.”

“Everyone likes Finnick, Katniss,” he corrects me and I laugh.

“Not like _that_ , silly.” I push him playfully and open my mouth to continue, but I am interrupted by a familiar voice.

“There you are,” Effie approaches our table, followed by a reluctant Haymitch. My smile wavers. “I see you have met the Odairs, aren’t they lovely?” She doesn’t give us time to reply. “As you know you are scheduled to leave for your honeymoon in two hours. You still have to throw the bouquet, Katniss.” I nod, knowing she is not finished. “Not to mention you still have some important guests to see.” She turns to Haymitch

“I will introduce you to some of my friends, former Victors,” Haymitch says after a short pause. “And then we will take you to President Snow. If you mess up we’ll use the bouquet as an excuse to get you out of there, sweetheart.”

Peeta stiffens next to me, and I know that he wants to argue against Haymitch. Defend me.

But it’s a right I haven’t earned, so I just nod and raise from the chair I had been sitting on, pulling Peeta’s hand with me so he stands too. Effie beams at us and starts walking.

“Finnick complimented my fake smile,” I whisper to Peeta as we walk behind her.

“Well, it has definitely improved.” After that, it is much easier to continue to fake it.

 

*******

 

Greeting important Capitol people is worse than I had expected, but we get through it. We were soon joined by Danny, and the three of us make rounds around the tables as we pretend not to notice the cameramen following us, I can't even begin to imagine the number of pictures of me they have taken during the party and the ceremony. It makes me nauseous. Haymitch introduces us to Chaff (who kisses me full in the lips) and Seeder (who laughs about it), his Victor friends from District 11. Finnick introduces us to Mags, an old lady that speaks something Finnick has to translate for us, and then he introduces us to Johanna, who only has eyes for Peeta, but her wife doesn’t seem to worry about it, so I don’t either.

Effie introduces to some of the sponsors that rooted for me and Danny in the Arena, and we thank them for their generosity. Some of them are looking forward to see us promoting their enterprises, but Effie effortlessly manages that by reminding them we are on a party and handing them more champagne glasses. She winks an eye at me and I smile genuinely. She may be obnoxious, but she is on our side.

“There’s President Snow,” Haymitch points with his chin. My mouth goes dry immediately.

We have crossed paths only once, but somehow that seems like more than enough. It was when he placed the Victor crown on top of my head after the Games. He congratulated me and I thanked him, that was all. But sometimes I still woke in the middle of the night as if I could still feel the weight of his snakelike eyes on top of me.

His eyes remind me of what I did, what I said. They remind me I am not safe.

The last thing I want is to take Peeta close to him, or to have Danny cross paths with him again. But I know I can’t help it.

Silently, I follow Haymitch as he walks towards the President’s table.

“President Snow,” he greets graciously, and for a moment I am taken aback by his talent. I forget that Haymitch has been doing this for a very long time. “I hope you are enjoying the party.”

“It is a lovely party,” Snow answers nodding at Haymitch before his eyes move to me and my small family. “Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Mellark.”

“Thank you,” Peeta says with a smile, offering his hand. “It is a honor to have you here. And I do hate to correct you, but Katniss is keeping her last name.”

Snow chuckles, taking Peeta’s hand and shaking it. “It is lovely to finally meet you, Peeta. You are as charming in person as Miss Everdeen said." I stop breathing, and then he turns to me, so I make an effort to breath again. "It is interesting, the decision about your last name. Is it to protect your image as a Victor?”

“In memory of my father, actually,” I reply with a kind smile, surprised by the steadiness of my voice.

“It is a pity, don’t you think? Young men dying in the mines… I do believe it is about time we do something about it.”

My throat closes and I have to remind myself to breathe again before finally managing to, but it doesn’t matter, because the President is already looking away from me and smiling at Danny. All of me wants to sweep him away and just run. But I don’t do anything as Danny stretches his hand to shake Snow’s. The handshake is short, firm and cordial. And one of the worst moments of my life, which all things considered is saying a lot.

“It is a pleasure to see you again, President Snow.”

“I am glad you think so, young boy. We will be seeing each other quite a lot.”

“I’m looking forward to go back to the Capitol. The food there is just _so_ good, and there’s Caesar Flickerman too, he's great.”

Snow laughs. “You have a silver tongue, my dear boy. I will make sure that the food in the Capitol is the best upon your arrival.”

Danny gifts him a blinding smile and I can almost hear Finnick’s voice in my head. _Daniel Mellark, District 12. Silver Tongue. Wrapped the entire country around his finger, way too young._

Haymitch is now gone, even though I have barely spoken I have been so focused on saying the right thing that I didn’t notice he had left. But Snow obviously didn’t, and he didn't hesitate to use it to his advantage.

“Forgive me, I’ve been incredibly rude. Allow me to introduce you to my beautiful granddaughters. This is Alba, and her sister Cassie.” He gestures to the two blonde girls that are seated at his table, they are beautiful and wearing exquisite pink dresses.

“Cassie is short for Cassiopeia,” the smallest of them clarifies and we all chuckle. She is adorable, it is easy to forget who her grandfather is.

“I might be President… but it is my duty to embarrass my girls. I’m afraid Cassie has been wanting to dance with you all party long, my boy.” Snow smiles at Danny and my hand grabs a fistful of the fabric of my dress. “Will you two do my girls the honor to take them dancing?”

“Grandpa!” Alba giggles, but the damage is done.

Soon, Peeta is walking away with Alba’s arm hooked on his, and Danny is doing the proper with Cassie.

“Would you sit down, Miss Everdeen?”

His voice is still as cordial as ever, as if we were best friends. But something has changed, we are now alone and I know the game is both over and just getting started. I do as he said and sit down next to him, both of our eyes focused on the dance floor.

“I think we’ll make this whole situation a lot simpler by agreeing not to lie to each other?” He starts once I sit down. “What do you think?”

“Yes. I think that would save time.”

“My advisors were concerned you were going to be difficult, but you are not planning on being difficult, are you?”

“No,” I answer.

“That’s what I told them. I said any girl that goes to such lengths to preserve her life isn’t going to be interested in throwing it away with both hands. And then there’s her family to think about, both the old one and the new one.” From the corner of my eye I can see him pointing his chin at the two Mellark boys in the dancing floor, my chest tightens. “And of course… all of those _cousins.”_ By the way he lingers on the word ‘cousins’ I can tell he knows me and Gale don’t share a family tree. Haymitch and Effie had made sure to spread that rumor in order to quiet down the gossip that came from me running into his arms instead of Peeta’s upon my arrival. Most people in the Capitol bought into it.

“Where is your handsome cousin, by the way?” _Rubbing salt into the wound, I see._ My hand is still clasped around the fabric of my dress, and I hope it won’t be ruined by the time I am finally able to let go. “I am sad to see he didn't make it to the party.”

“My cousin and I are not in the best of terms.”

“Ah, family drama. Such a shame in most cases… not this one though. You see, Miss Everdeen, I have a problem. A problem that began the moment you pulled out those poisonous berries in the arena.”

“I didn’t pull them,” I remind him.

“It is not the literal berries I am concerned about, Miss Everdeen.” I force myself to look at him and find that his eyes are already on me, he smiles. “I meant the poetic berries you threw into the ground as you gave your little _speech."_   The way he says 'speech' makes it sound as the most disgusting word in the human vocabulary, but I continue to watch him blankly  _"_ I am afraid those berries might have carried seeds of rebellion. And you see, if the Head Gamemaker, Seneca Crane, had had any brains, he’d blown you to dust right then. But due to an unfortunate sentimental streak here you are, and your seeds are on fertile ground. Can you guess where he is?”

“On fertile ground, I suppose,” I say and he nods. I supress a shiver.

“After that, there was nothing to do but to let you play out your little scenario. You know, with the medicine side effects, the post traumatic stress disorder, your desperate heart aching to be reunited with your lover. But you failed me.”

“I am sorry,” I say flatly. As we had already stablished, there was no point in lying. And I  _am_ sorry, even if not for all the right reasons.

“No you are not. You _will be_ , though, if you fail to convince me.”

“Convince you of what?”

“Your lovely charade. Convince me that Peeta is the man of your life, that when you screamed at the cameras it was only the exhaustion speaking. _Prove to me_ that you are not a threat.”

“Or else?” My tone is not defiant, and he understands that. I just want to understand what is at stake, even when I know they are high it would help me to know exactly what the risk were. Stop me from overthinking. “You’ll kill me?”

“Publicly?” He raises his eyebrows.

“You could arrange an accident.”

“Would you, a person that has eaten from the fruit of rebellion, buy that?”

“Probably not.”

“So you see my problem.” I nodded. “Your sister, Daniel and Peeta I am afraid are as… untouchable as you are.” His words are not reassuring at all, if only they make me even more anxious. “But as I said earlier, it is about time we do something about those young men tragically dying on the mines.”

I barely have time to react, before I know it Effie is back and apologizes to President Snow, claiming it is time for me to throw my bouquet. He kisses both of my cheeks and my stomach turns.

His breath smells of blood.

 

*******

 

The following minutes are all a whirlwind. My aim is quite off when I throw the bouquet, so instead of landing on Prim’s arms as she requested it ends up in Madge’s. I dance a few more pieces with people I don’t care about, and pose for pictures that I won't remember tomorrow. All while trying to shake off President Snow’s words from my head. But I can’t.

Especially not when Gale approaches me. He sticks out like a sore thumb, even when he is wearing his best clothes and he has completely scrubbed off the coal dust from the lines of his face. The Capitol guests eye him curiously, and the million gossip theories I heard the weeks after my arrival replay on my head, along with Snow's voice.

“Congratulations Peeta,” he says while looking at me, snapping me out from my thoughts. Only after his first sentence does he look up at Peeta. “You are a very lucky man, I trust you won't forget that.”

To my husband’s credit, he takes Gale’s words with a graceful nod. "I won't."

My heart is beating loudly in my chest, and I wonder if Peeta can feel it through the fabric of my dress, on the hand he has pressed on my back. If he does, he doesn’t act like it.

“Congratulations Catnip." My breath catches again at the nickname. "Do you think you maybe have time for one more dance?”

I swallow hard, feeling the way I did all of those times I was forced to tour the mines after my father died. When the elevator went down and the walls seemed to close on me. I can’t go through that again, so I ready myself to reject his offer.

Thankfully, Effie comes to my rescue.

“I am sorry, but we are late for the bride and groom's exit. If we don’t do this now we will miss the sunset lightning...”

“I am sorry,” I say, cutting her off. My eyes looking straight into his. I hope that he understand everything I am trying to say: that I am forever grateful that he stopped by, and I am sorry for leaving him, but mostly that I am sorry for coming back.

If he understands, I will never know. Because he simply nods and steps aside.

People throw flower petals (I was firm against the rice, there was no way people would throw perfectly good food in my wedding) as Peeta and I make our exit, and we make a ridiculously short car ride to our house.

“It wasn’t because of me… was it?” He asks quietly once we are alone, the car disappearing down the road as we walk to our cottage.

He doesn’t need to say his name for me to know, I look into his eyes and shake my head so he knows I am being honest. He understands, which is the reason we don’t talk about it anymore.

Instead he sweeps me off my feet lovingly, kissing me in the threshold of the house we built together before stepping inside and allowing me to take it all in.

The kitchen is warm and inviting, and I can already picture him covered in flour and filling the house with the scent of bread toasting. The living room can barely accommodate a couple of guests, but I know this is on purpose, some of his paintings decorate the walls. It feels like home. 

The bedroom is nothing like the Capitol’s, nothing like the cold and unwelcoming one in the Victor House I had been sleeping until then. 

“Do you like it?” He whispers in my ear.

“Of course I like it.”

The Victory tour is in a week, a sword is hanging on top of my best friend’s head and according to Finnick there are still a million smiles I have yet to fake. But my husband picked fresh dandelions to put them on my dresser, and I can afford to be selfish for one night.


End file.
